


par four

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, KNBxNBA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: Tatsuya and Shuuzou don't always have the same definition of a perfect Saturday morning.(nba!tatsuya x nhl!shuu)





	par four

**Author's Note:**

> nijihimu + picnicking on the golf course (thanks richer!)
> 
> this could have gone in a bad boys breaking and entering direction (sup canon) but damn if i don't love shameless indulgence: the AU (please please please read [goal line](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10906419) and [sharp angle!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10767654))
> 
> there's also a CTE joke in here, just as a warning!

It's a beautiful spring day; the sky is cloudless and blue, the gingko trees are in bloom, the grass has emerged from a seemingly endless winter lush and green. There's a light breeze in the air, but it’s a little too faint, not doing quite enough to mask the 80-degree high hinted at by the weather report. Tatsuya loves these kinds of days, getting up early on the weekend to tour the streetball courts in his neighborhood before they get too crowded; and then, sometimes, he doesn't mind providing the local kids with a little entertainment. Today, however, isn't quite going to plan.

“Man,” Tatsuya sighs, looking around the tee box. “I can't believe you dragged me out here.” He pops his collar, and Shuu looks up from setting up his shot, sighing softly in a way that confirms he won't be fixing Tatsuya's collar again.

“To be honest, neither can I,” Shuuzou looks down again, matching the head of his driver up with the ball. “But we both got booted from the playoffs, so we might as well enjoy our longer summer, right?”

Tatsuya is quiet, watching as Shuuzou pulls his club back a fraction. It's easy to imagine him concentrating, fierce like in the lead-up music that plays in the arena right before a faceoff, still written across his features despite being hidden by the brim of his cap. He moves fluid through his swing, ball pinging off steel, the twist of his back. The sun isn't high enough in the sky to be blinding, and either way, it's behind them. Tatsuya is able to follow the arc of his ball; it's a straight shot down the fairway. He whistles low, and Shuuzou bites back most of his grin as he hands Tatsuya his club. Tatsuya leans down; the tee hasn't been totally uprooted. He pushes it back down closer to the grass, and sets his ball on top.

“Just because it's a longer summer doesn't mean I'm happy about it.”

Shuuzou bites the inside of his cheek. He's had a bit of a longer mourning period than Tatsuya, if only by a week, but he knows how much more it can hurt.

“Yeah, well. The key word is try.”

Tatsuya shuffles his feet a little. He adjusts his grip.

“Am I holding this right?” 

“You'll want to adjust your thumbs a little,” Shuuzou steps back in, his hands on Tatsuya's, the leather of his glove and the calluses of his bare one pouring over his fingers. Tatsuya remembers back to a sleepy Shuuzou promising he'd teach him how to handle a puck, and skate. If there's anything sweet in the Devils not lifting the Cup, it's the promise of an empty practice rink, to be later filled by new rookies and AHL veterans alike, but something that could be theirs alone for an afternoon.

And then Shuuzou steps away, and Tatsuya realizes he hasn't been paying attention, and his fingers feel strange, like they're going to slip right back into whatever was his earlier mistake. He tries not to think about it, swings; his ball goes forward, then sinks short and to the left. Tatsuya narrows his eye. 

“You know, I could be playing basketball right now.”

“Then make me sleep over at your place next time,” Shuuzou snorts, taking his club back from Tatsuya and hefting his bag onto his shoulder. “You can make fun of my shitty basketball all you want.”

“Your basketball isn't shitty. It just needs work.” Shuuzou gives Tatsuya a look.

“So it's shitty.” Tatsuya stares straight ahead, exhales a quiet sigh.

“Shuu, I play in the NBA. Putting ego aside, that's just a fact. I don't _want_ you to compare yourself to me, because you aren't going to get anywhere if you do. But, compared to the average guy? You're probably pretty decent.”

“Yeah, because that sounds so--”

“That's not the fucking _point!_ ” Tatsuya throws his hands up with an incredulous laugh. “What the hell, Shuu? I thought you enjoyed playing.”

“Listen, just drop it, okay? It's just--”

Shuuzou’s breath gets caught in his throat. The way Tatsuya draws back, narrowing his eye, waiting to judge his words even though his opinion won't be shaken. It's not just a game; it's not _not_ a big deal. And he knows Tatsuya's right. 

“I come here with you and I just dick around and complain about it; _you_ put in effort,” Tatsuya adjusts his snapback. “Don't think it goes unnoticed.”

“And it's not like I don't enjoy the time together, but,” He continues, glancing at the grass, manicured fairway turning into mangled rough. “There's another sport I want to learn from you, you know.”

Shuuzou blinks. “Oh.”

He coughs into his fist, rubs at his nose. “Shit, of course.”

Tatsuya scans the grass as he walks, thrusts his hands into his pockets. He checks his watch. 

“Man. You didn't even make breakfast this morning.”

“We’re gonna have brunch later,” Shuuzou grins. “You grabbed something, right?”

“Protein bar. It's wearing off now.”

“Huh,” Shuuzou bites his lip, searching in his pocket. He pulls out a flask, the silver sparkling in the sunlight. “Not sure if this counts as breakfast.” Tatsuya shrugs, and Shuuzou hands it to him. 

“Fuckin’ aggressive breakfast,” Tatsuya cough-laughs, handing the flask back. “Does that help the CTE, or what?”

Shuuzou toasts Tatsuya, taking a nip himself. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

“Either way, I hope your country club dollars can cover the divots my buzzed ass makes,” Tatsuya snorts, bumping Shuuzou’s hip. Shuuzou grins and bumps him back. He catches Tatsuya by the waist, though, gaze flicking between Tatsuya's eye and his lips, even though he's spotted his ball a few feet away. Tatsuya twists his snapback around and bridges the gap between them, lifting Shuuzou’s cap so the brim doesn't graze his forehead. Their kiss is soft and brief, and Tatsuya feels Shuuzou’s fingers press into his skin.

“Let's not hold the group behind us up,” Shuuzou’s voice is quiet as he points at Tatsuya's ball, though neither of them have made an effort to move away. After a beat, Tatsuya steps back, and Shuuzou sets his clubs down. He hands Tatsuya an iron.

“Let me know if your shoulder starts bothering you, okay?”

“We're only playing the front nine,” Shuuzou smiles at Tatsuya's concern. “But I might need a break.”

Tatsuya settles into his stance, adjusting his hands on the grip. He glances up at Shuuzou, who gives him an encouraging nod. Tatsuya pulls back, then swings through; the ball still doesn't quite make the green, but it's pretty damn close, which is good enough in his eyes.

“Hey,” Shuuzou says after a moment, emerging onto the fairway. “Are you heading back to L.A. this summer?”

“I haven't decided yet. You?”

“Maybe for a week or two, to check in on the parents,” Shuuzou rubs the back of his neck. “I was thinking about sticking around here for a while. And if you're okay with it, well. Maybe my plans could be your plans, or something like that.”

“I think I'd like that,” Tatsuya smiles fondly at the idea. “You could come up to Manhattan for a few weeks. I come down here for a while, you show me more than just the golf course. We could drive out to the boardwalk?”

“Yeah,” Shuuzou snorts. “Destroy our stomachs with all the junk food together.”

“Well,” Tatsuya winks. “It isn't really an offseason if that doesn't happen.”

“It's not like I don't want to teach you how to play,” Shuuzou starts up again a moment later, in the lull after he sends his ball out to the green. “Of course I love the sport. This is what I do to relax, though; I guess it just made sense to me to do this with you, first.”

Tatsuya nods. “I can respect that.”

“And just for the record,” Shuuzou grins. “I don't think you could ever golf as lousy as you think you do--athletically, or morally.”

“What can I say,” Tatsuya shrugs, grinning back. “Brunch is a good motivator.”


End file.
